


Colors

by sheronthekitty



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Colors, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:19:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheronthekitty/pseuds/sheronthekitty
Summary: He was Red. He was fiery curls. He was explosions, and screams. He was the hot blood running through his veins, he was the fiery passion in his heart.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A thing I had to write for class. We had to start every paragraph with a color, but not name it in the rest of the paragraph.
> 
> I hope you like it.

He was Red. He was fiery curls. He was explosions, and screams. He was the hot blood running through his veins, he was the fiery passion in his heart. But he was also the sun setting on a summer day; a cherry in the bottom of a drink. He was loyalty, he was love, he was a Chrysanthemum. He was hot, but he was also sweet. His name was Michael Jones.

He was yellow. He was messed up hair, pointing all directions. The color of the dandelions in Spring, the color of the sun. He was cheerful, and bright, and always laughing. He was excitement. But he was also lightning, a destructive force. He was the wails of people in despair. He was was a Marigold. He was warm, he was bright, but he was also a force to be reckoned with. His name was Gavin Free.

Together they made orange. The color of fire burning at night, the color of heat. Together they were a couple holding hands in the morning, a kiss placed on a cheek. They were playful insults, punches and shoves. They were the color of the bright car, speeding away from the cops. They were fire, they were passion, but they were love, they were perfect.

That day, everything was gray. Rain fell, hard and heavy, making everything wilt. The sky was clouds, dark and heavy. The town was dead, lights off. A pistol caught the meager light, and the shot rang out. The only color in that drab world was the blood mingling with the rain. A cry. A whisper. “I love you.”

He was black. Maybe once he was a different color, but not anymore. Everyone could see that. He was the color of the sky at night, when no stars or moon shine. He is the color of the raven’s feathers as it mourns its dead mate. He’s the color of hatred, and sadness, and death. He the color of a man who gave up. A man who never laughed. His name was Gavin Free, and he had lost the last bit of color in his life.

She was blue. The color of the sky. The color of a lake shining in the sun. She was the color of Lapis and Sapphire, beautiful gems. And she was that, precious, beautiful. But she was the color of dead lips, the color of ice. Cold, collected, hard. She was a an Iris, hope, faith, wisdom. Her name was Lindsay Jones.

The conversation was pink. Full of love, full of happiness. She told him of the red boy, the way he was sweet, how he loved. She told him that he was kind, and wonderful, and his love was like when you’re under a blanket with one you love. It was reading a book in the kitchen while the other cooks. It was going on dates. It was full of life.

He smiled, and it was green. Almost as bright as it once was, but not the same. The smile was sad, like grass that has frost on it. His eyes sadder. They were the color of moss, hiding underneath the waterfall, clinging to the rocks. They were the color of a storm, calling for a tornado. They were loud, but they were quiet.

The day was purple. It was fear. It was longing. That boy was afraid. His back hit the wall, painted the color of royalty. His fear, the color of grapes. The sky called for rain, dark clouds gathering. The tall man was cold, mean. He was the color of electricity. He was always moving. Hands twitching with the seconds. The boy cried.

Red. The color of explosions. The sound of skin hitting skin, as the tall man was pushed away. The color of a fight. The color of _him_. But, it wasn’t the same color. It was darker, the color of an apple, sitting in the tree. This color was a cherry pie, dark, and sweet. But, those flame colored curls, he knew them.

The world turned white. It slowed down. There was no noise.

 _He_ turned, and smiled. Pink. The color of love.

The boy exploded with color. Yellow. Shining, bright, loud.

They embraced, colors mingling. Orange, as the sun pushed out from the clouds, setting. It was warmth.


End file.
